


coffee and salt

by crimsun



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shadowhunter Chronicles Fusion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Suh Youngho | Johnny Are Siblings, Lee Taeyong & Suh Youngho | Johnny Are Best Friends, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Nightmares, Non-Linear Narrative, Parabatai Bond, Tattoos, Violence, Warlocks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26788459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsun/pseuds/crimsun
Summary: Johnny remained quiet for so long Taeil assumed he wouldn’t speak again. But, as the moon was nearing its highest point in the sky, Taeil hears him whisper beside him, “I want a tattoo of a sunflower.”Taeil places a hand on the back of Johnny’s head, caressing the hairs at the base of his skull. “We’ll go together,” Taeil whispers back. “You’ll get a tattoo of a sunflower.”
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Suh Youngho | Johnny, Moon Taeil/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 14
Kudos: 55





	coffee and salt

**Author's Note:**

> this is an idea I've had for a while and I finally had the inspiration to write it, so I hope you enjoy! please feel free to tell me if there's something unclear or something additional I should tag
> 
> for those who may not know, the few shadowhunter things I mention here are:  
> \- parabatai: a pair of shadowhunter warriors who fight together as lifelong partners, bound together by an oath and a ceremony  
> \- iratzes: runes that heal shadowhunters' wounds  
> \- the institute: an asylum for shadowhunters located in all major cities of the world  
> \- high warlocks: the most powerful warlocks in their respective areas

“ _Yomiel!_ ” Johnny cries, lifting his seraph blade as it’s engulfed with heavenly fire. 

In front of him, a Rahab demon snaps its teeth — both sets of them, the ones in its mouth and the ones on its forehead where its eyes should be — in his general direction, sniffing the air with its big, slimy snout. It seems to locate Johnny pretty easily, because in less than a second a long, forked tongue is darting in his direction, the bulb shaped stinger at the end aiming directly for Johnny’s chest. 

He barely has time to roll out of the way, throwing the blazing seraph blade in a wide arch of light. It lands at the demon’s side, impaling it and sending a spray of ichor across the street as the demon disappears. 

Panting, Johnny turns around. Donghyuck seems fine as he battles another Rahab, handling Cortana with swiftness and grace only he could manage. In the distance, Johnny can see two more demons making their way towards the bridge. 

“By the Angel,” he whispers, retracting two more seraph blades from his weapons belt.

“Shouldn’t your _parabatai_ be doing that?” Taeil muses, clasping his hands together over the kitchen table and resting his chin on top of them. Multiple rings rest on every single one of his fingers, each one glittering in the soft afternoon light that filters through the window. It makes Johnny squint, but he can still make out the places where Taeil’s purple nail polish is starting to chip.

“No,” Johnny replies simply, drawing the last line of an _iratze_ on his leg through the rip in his gear. He watches with quiet satisfaction as the gash along his calf starts to stitch itself together, pressing his lips together at the uncomfortable sensation. He rests his steele on Taeil’s table. “It’s just a scratch, no need to worry Taeyong.” 

“I see,” Taeil says in the same, slightly amused tone and Johnny raises an eyebrow at him. Taeil chuckles. “You’re just so particular, you shadowhunters. Sometimes I forget you’re more human than Angel.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Johnny asks as the wound on his calf finally seals and the pain completely dissipates. He sags against the chair with relief. 

“Always so contradictory,” is all he says before Gogi jumps onto the table right in front of him. Taeil opens his arms readily and the cat settles into his arms, his orange and white tail curling around Taeil’s bicep. Gogi’s disturbingly yellow eyes, almost identical to Taeil’s, narrow when he spots Johnny; Johnny sticks his tongue out at him. 

Taeil clicks his tongue, distracted. “Want coffee?”

“Sure,” Johnny sighs.

Taeyong opens the door of the Institute by the third knock, only to find Taeil standing on the top step. His cat-like eyes are wide and his hair is dishevelled. 

“Where is he,” he demands rather than asks, eyes hard, and Taeyong is reminded for the first time in a long time of who the man in front of him really is. Despite how close and comfortable they had gotten, Taeil is still the High Warlock of Seoul, and has been for longer than Taeyong has been alive.

“I’ll take you,” Taeyong answers, foregoing explanations in favor of stepping to the side. Taeil slips through the gap made for him and lets Taeyong lead him towards the library.

It’s relatively close, just on the other side of the ground floor, and less than five minutes later Taeil is pushing open the heavy oak doors and walking towards the window, where Johnny sits on the ledge. His eyes are rimmed red, shoulders hunched in a way Taeyong had never seen before, like he’s trying to make himself look small. He feels a pull at his heart, like the _parabatai_ bond was calling him to Johnny’s side, but Taeil is already there, demanding Johnny tell him what happened. His voice was softer than it had been at the door. 

“Is Kun here?” he says, inspecting Johnny’s face closely as he nods, further curling into himself. “Then it’s going to be okay. The silent brothers will take care of him.”

Johnny makes a sound between a choke and a sob. It only takes one caress from Taeil, his fingers trailing the skin under his eyes, for Johnny’s shoulders to sag. The pressure in Taeyong’s own chest eases as well. He turns around and closes the door behind him; Johnny is in good hands.

"I spoke to him the other day," Jaemin says between mouthfuls of porridge. He's eating liked he's never been fed before, shoveling food down his throat. Beside him Jisung isn't any better, stuffing a too-large pancake bite directly into the inside of his cheek. 

"Who?" Johnny asks, taking a much smaller bite of pancake. He has half a mind to scold them for their eating habits, but he figures Taeyong will give them enough of an earful when he comes down to eat himself. 

"Donghyuck's ghost," Jaemin says casually, taking a large gulp of orange juice. 

Johnny chokes on his pancake while Jaemin and Jisung just stare at him, their expressions split between concern and confusion. Right in that moment, Taeyong walks into the dining room, and immediately makes a beeline for Johnny, thumping his back until his coughs subside. 

"Do I really have to scold you for shoving too much food into your mouth?" Taeyong asks, unimpressed, as he moves to sit beside Johnny. This elicits a soft giggle from Jisung, who tries and fails to hide it behind a cough, but Johnny is willing to forget the accident if it means getting more answers out of Jaemin.

"What do you mean you spoke with Donghyuck's ghost?" Johnny demands.

Now it's Taeyong who chokes, and Johnny pats his back absentmindedly as he urges Jaemin to continue. 

"Well," he concedes, sending Taeyong a weary glance. "He came to visit my room last night. He said he's been around for a while now, but only learned how to let people see him recently. A ghost from the London Institute taught him how."

Taeyong, his coughing subsided by now, sits in silence as he looks between Jaemin and Johnny, expression stony. Jisung just keeps eating like the whole ordeal isn't news to him — maybe that’s the case. 

"Did he say anything else?" Johnny asks, turning his attention back to Jaemin.

Jaemin looks thoughtful for a moment, before shaking his head. "Just that. He vanished pretty quickly."

Slowly, Johnny nods again. "Jaemin," he says, voice thick with emotion. His hands are shaking. "If he visits you again, please tell me."

"Hyung!" Jaemin exclaims, surprised as if he couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Still, he nods. "Of course."

Taeyong's hand is on Johnny’s arm, he's opening his mouth to say something, but Johnny is already standing up. The legs of his chair scrape against the floor as he pushes it back. There are tears clouding the corners of his vision.

"Thank you," he says, but it comes out like a whisper, and then he's out of the dining room. 

Johnny knocks on Taeil’s door exactly one week after Donghyuck’s death. They hadn’t seen each other since that night at the library, when Johnny had sobbed into Taeil’s chest as his brother took his last breath, and Taeil hadn’t seeked him out since then. Years of experience had taught him not to pry. The Nephilim had their own ways of mourning, and Johnny would come to Taeil if he needed him in due time. 

And here he was, still dressed in shadowhunter white, the color of mourning. It looked out of place on Johnny.

Taeil welcomes him in without a word, gently pushing him inside after he had taken off his shoes. Johnny picks his way through the general disarray in Taeil’s living room — from small piles of books on top of the carpet, to the stray blankets that somehow found their way to the floor, to the small mahogany coffee table atop of which one-too-many mugs still resided — and settles heavily on the cream colored couch. If it wasn’t for his shock of black hair, he could almost blend into it.

Just then, Gogi came out of his room. The cat pranced towards the living room — only a few steps away from the door to Taeil’s room, much like everything else in his apartment — and curled at Johnny's feet, gently nuzzling his head against his ankles and curling his tail around his calf. For once, Gogi didn’t seem to be looking at Johnny with his permanent gaze of disdain. It made something soft and warm pull at Taeil’s chest.

“I want a tattoo.”

It had been hours since Johnny last spoke. Taeil had assumed he was asleep and, although he was surprised, he tried not to make it evident. “Isn’t that a mundane thing?”

“Yeah,” Johnny whispers. He traces his thumb against the bare skin of Taeil’s hip, where his shirt had ridden up, but his eyes were focused on the full moon right outside the small, tiny window in Taeil’s bedroom. “But Donghyuck liked mundane things. I think he would’ve liked this, too.”

Taeil hums. He lets the quiet reign for a moment longer before he speaks again. “I was fond of him, too, you know?”

If Taeil’s words cause anything to stir inside of Johnny, he doesn’t show it. “He came to me once, with Mark. They were looking to break their parabatai bond, because they fell in love. Did you know that?”

“So that’s why he distanced himself from Mark,” he whispers. Despite hearing what Taeil assumed was a revelation, Johnny didn’t seem surprised. 

“Yes,” Taeil concedes. “Donghyuck was very stubborn, and Mark wanted to protect him from himself. Even after they fought, Donghyuck came to me, sometimes. He liked to pet Gogi and eat all my sugar cookies. He was a good kid. And he had a good life, Johnny. He talked about you a lot, too. He really admired you.”

Johnny remained quiet for so long Taeil assumed he wouldn’t speak again. But, as the moon was nearing its highest point in the sky, Taeil hears him whisper beside him, “I want a tattoo of a sunflower.”

Taeil places a hand on the back of Johnny’s head, caressing the hairs at the base of his skull. “We’ll go together,” Taeil whispers back. “You’ll get a tattoo of a sunflower.” 

The late afternoon sun bathes Taeil's room in a soft, golden glow. It makes Johnny drowsy, and he can see Taeil's eyes slipping shut as well, his breaths slowing down where their chests are pressed together. He wants to nap in Taeil's arms, aided by Gogi's tail softly caressing the soles of his feet, but there's a question at the back of his mind that prevents him from letting himself fully succumb to sleep.

"Hey," Johnny whispers, only half remorseful, hoping it's enough to rouse Taeil from his half asleep state. When Taeil hums, he counts it as a success.

"Can you talk to ghosts?" 

Suddenly, Taeil seems more awake. His yellow cat eyes wide open as he regards Johnny with an open sort of scrutiny. "I _could_ , but it would require a great deal of necromancy that I'm really not willing to delve into. What brings this on?"

Johnny shakes his head softly, averting his gaze. "Nothing," he says, but he knows the tremble in his voice gives him away.

"Johnny," Taeil coaxes him, tone urgent. Gogi’s tail goes still against his feet.

"Jaemin told me he talked to Donghyuck's ghost the other day," he admits finally, head hanging low. He doesn't want Taeil to see how vulnerable he is, how much the mere mention of Donghyuck affects him still. But Taeil can read him like a book, so he slowly lifts his chin until their eyes are looking into each other's.

"Oh, Johnny," he says, sympathetic, but not pitying. His voice carries the weariness of a thousand years, and the weight of Taeil's true age — and the extent of the knowledge that comes with it — hits Johnny like a truck. "He'll come to you when he's ready."

The absolute certainty in Taeil's voice, the complete conviction, as well as the movement of Gogi’s tail resuming once more, is what Johnny holds on to as he lets his eyes slip shut.

“What’s that on your arm?” is the first thing Taeyong asks when Johnny walks through the doors of the training room. The sun is high in the sky, filtering through the high windows in a way that casts a soft glow around Taeyong. Johnny smirks at his _parabatai_. 

“My parabatai rune,” Johnny says cheerily, walking to the back of the practice room. He grabs a spear that was previously leaning against the wall, examining its point closely. “Did you forget about us already?”

“Very funny,” Taeyong says, although his tone is anything but humorous. He angles his hand back, elbow high, and throws a knife at the target on the wall opposite to him. Johnny doesn’t need to look to know he hit it dead in the center. “On your other arm, idiot.”

Although he doesn’t need to, Johnny glances down at his arms, spear still clutched tight. On the same spot as his parabatai rune, but on the opposite arm, sits a bright yellow sunflower, vibrant and out of place among the dark runes and jagged scars that surround it. 

“It’s a tattoo,” he says, but it seems like Taeyong is already done with his games. His throwing knives have been abandoned and he’s stalking towards Johnny, eyebrows raised.

“What,” Johnny whines defensively, although Taeyong hasn't said anything yet. “It’s not that uncommon! A lot of shadowhunters get them these days. It adds a pop of color to the whole rune affair.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never been interested,” Taeyong says as he stops in front of Johnny, reaching out for his arm. Johnny gives it willingly, letting Taeyong trace the lines of ink with a light, delicate finger. It seems like an eternity before he speaks again. 

“It’s a sunflower,” he says softly. Johnny knows what’s hidden behind his words, left unsaid. _It’s for Donghyuck_. 

Johnny nods. “It’s been a year.”

Taeyong slides his hand down Johnny’s forearm, coming to a stop at his wrist, and clasps their hands together. “He would be proud of you, you know?”

 _I know_ , Johnny wants to say, but his words get caught in his throat. Instead, he reaches out and pulls Taeyong into his chest. _I know_.

“Why do you have so many mundane Angel paintings?” Johnny asks from his spot on the couch, legs draped over the side while his head is pillowed by his arm. He hears Taeil hum in consideration all the way from his bedroom.

“Well,” he says as he comes out, dressed in what Johnny guesses is his pajama — a pair of gray sweatpants and a shirt so big it slides off his shoulder. Johnny has to make a conscious effort to tear his eyes away from his collarbones. “I guess I also like to wonder at mundane things.”

Taeil walks across the room, carefully avoiding stepping on Gogi’s tail where it peeks out from under the couch, and settles on Johnny’s lap, back-to-chest, and stretches his legs over the free space Johnny had left. “You have your tattoo,” he continues, eyes darkening as if lost in thought. “And I have my Angels. I think it’s cute how the humans make them look so innocent, with their baby faces. Angels should inspire nothing but terror, yet humans worship them as creatures who are beautiful and elegant. Funny, don’t you think?”

All Johnny can do is nod and settle back into the cushions, pulling Taeil close to his chest.

Johnny wakes up with a start, gasping for air with savage desperation. He can feel the way his clothes stick to his back with sweat, and his forehead damp with it too. He grimaces.

He can never remember what the nightmares are about — or maybe he just doesn’t _want_ to remember — but Donghyuck's voice always rings in his ears right before he wakes up.

Johnny only lets himself sit in the darkness for a moment before he's reaching towards his nightstand. He fumbles a little, knocking over a few pens and his glasses, before his hand comes into contact with his witchlight, flooding the room with a brilliant white glow. The face of his brother appears right before him, grey and washed out, as if he was submerged beneath a pool. Donghyuck is staring at him with bulging wide eyes.

They scream at the same time. Johnny reaches for the seraph blade he keeps tucked between the mattress and the bedframe, scrambling to remember the name of an Angel, _any_ Angel, but Donghyuck lunges backwards, his watery form rippling as he screams, "Hyung, wait!"

It's like a bucket of ice-cold water gets dumped over Johnny's head. That's Donghyuck's voice, _his_ Donghyuck's voice, the one from both his dreams and his nightmares, and he's floating right before him. 

"Hyuck?" he whispers, almost to himself, and Donghyuck nods. 

"It's me, hyung," he says, nodding enthusiastically. He looks at Johnny contemplatively before snorting. "You still screech like a banshee."

Johnny let's the jab slide as he reaches out, but his hand passes right through Donghyuck, making his entire body ripple like a mirage. He yanks his hand away, but he can't tear his gaze away from his little brother. "Hyuckie, I'm so sorry–"

"No,* Donghyuck says firmly, all previous playfulness gone from his voice. His shimmery face is set with determination. "Don't apologize, Johnny-hyung. It wasn't your fault and that's not what I came here for." Johnny didn't know if ghosts could breathe, but that seemed to be what Donghyuck was doing as he steeled himself for what he needed to say next. "I came because it's time for me to move on."

Johnny can feel his heartbeat pick up. "What, no–" he started, panic seeping into his voice, but Donghyuck interrupted him again. 

"I'm not a very corporeal ghost, Jaemin could only see me because he has Herondale blood, but I'm not even strong enough to completely materialize myself to anyone else. I saved all my energy so you could see me, tonight," he concluded, although a little sadly. "I want to make sure you're okay before I go."

"Oh, Donghyuckie," Johnny sighed. "I've been so selfish. I just wanted to see you again and didn't think you might be having a hard time, too."

Donghyuck shook his ghostly head, making the edges of his hair ripple. "No, hyung, I wanted to see you, too. You weren't being selfish. But I just want you to promise me you'll be okay when I'm gone definitely."

"Not now, but soon. I'll be okay without you soon." Johnny shook his head. "I can't believe it, now you’re taking care of _me_."

"That's good enough," Donghyuck answered. He seemed to have recuperated from the dampened mood. "And it had to happen eventually, hyung, you're kind of a mess."

At this, Johnny couldn't help but laugh, swaying slightly from the relief of it all. 

Donghyuck looked at him contemplatively before his form started to sputter, coming in and out of focus like a TV trying to connect to cable. "Hyung," he said urgently, but his voice was warm. "I love you. Promise you'll take care of Mark for me."

And then, just like he had appeared out of nowhere, he vanished.

"I will. I love you, too," Johnny whispered just as the door to his room opened with an excessively loud bang. Taeyong hurried into the room, witchlight in hand, with Jaemin and Jisung hot on his heels.

"What happened?" he asked urgently, scanning Johnny for any injuries. 

Johnny just shook his head. Only now he noticed the seraph blade still clutched tightly in his hand. 

“I heard there was another attack,” Taeil says casually, leaning back against the kitchen counter as he waits for their coffee to brew. It’s made out of bright red granite, and it contrasts weirdly with the white cabinets and old, black gas stove. “Similar to how you described what happened to you and Donghyuck.”

Johnny tried to swallow around the knot forming at the base of his throat. “How did you know?”

He was stalling, Taeil knew, but still gave him the comfort of indulging him as he answered, “Sicheng told me; he heard it from Taeyong.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “You saw Sicheng recently?”

Taeil nodded. Behind him, he could hear the pot bubbling angrily, the smell of fresh coffee filling the air between them. “A few days ago. He might have left some sort of surprise under the couch cushions, I’m afraid.”

Johnny couldn’t help but smile. “He has a lot of affection towards you. Those are the ways of the Seelie.”

Taeil returned his smile, but shook his head. “Those are the ways of Sicheng.”

He busied himself with serving their coffee, allowing Johnny only a brief moment of reprieve before he brought up the topic again. “Did they take it seriously this time?” 

Johnny shrugged. “I don’t know. I asked Taeyong not to tell me anything about the Enclave meeting.”

Taeil raised an eyebrow, resting his chin on his hand. His nails were painted a bright, neon green and his rings caught the soft afternoon light beautifully, coating the silver in gold. “Really?”

“Yes,” Johnny nodded. He took another sip of his coffee, but it did nothing to chase away the sour taste in his mouth. “The Clave can do whatever they want, it’s beyond me at this point. They always treat us like a joke, anyway.”

“They do have a history,” Taeil hums. He looks pensive for a moment, head turned sideways, before fixing his eyes on Johnny. Like this, he looks almost predatory, slitted pupils glinting dangerously.

“If the time came to fight, would you?” he asked, voice dripping with curiosity. 

Johnny couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips, reaching over the table to free Taeil’s hand from its grip on his mug. He tangled their fingers together. “Maybe,” he answered. “In Donghyuck’s memory. For love.”

“Some types of love are not enough, sometimes,” Taeil says carefully, gripping his coffee mug with his free hand and bringing it up to his lips.

Johnny mirrors Taeil’s actions, smiling over the rim of his own mug. “I think this time it is.”

The doors of the Institute flew open just as Johnny was about to step outside. Mark Lee strode in, dressed in jeans and an old, slightly battered t-shirt, looking like he hadn't slept in a week. 

He looked around frantically for a moment before spotting Johnny and didn't waste a second before tumbling to his knees in front of him. "You saw him, too," he said, breathless.

Johnny kneeled in front of him. He hesitated for a moment before placing a hand on Mark's knee. "Donghyuck."

Mark only nodded. He knelt there for a few minutes, silent, until his body started trembling. A choked sob forced its way out of his body. "I loved him– Johnny–" he spluttered, and Johnny shushed him.

"I know," he whispered. "I know you did."

Make only reached up to clutch at Johnny's shirt, grip so tight Johnny was worried his knuckles might break. Another strangled sob forced its way out of Mark's mouth.

"It's okay," Johnny soothed, stroking a hand down Mark's back. "You're okay. You can cry."

Taeil's lips feel hot as he presses them to Johnny's. They're soft and smooth, like velvet, as they trail from the corner of Johnny's mouth all the way to his clavicle, where he nips at the soft skin with his teeth.

Johnny can't help the chuckle that escapes him. "If you wanted to suck my blood you could've just asked."

Taeil looks up. His slitted pupils are wide and dark, making the yellow irises look like they glow, and his blonde hair is disheveled beyond repair where Johnny had run his hands through it. There's a little spit clinging to the corner of his lips and Johnny thinks he couldn't be more in love than he is right now.

"You're horrible, you know that?" he asks, letting his forehead hit Johnny’s bare chest with a small _smack_. There's no malice in his tone and amusement dances in his eyes when he reaches up to press another kiss to Johnny's lips. “You have to get on my nerves, even when we kiss?”

Johnny just smiles. “Who would I be if I didn’t?”

“Fair enough,” Taeil says, with a long suffering sigh, but Johnny knows it's all for show. He pats Johnny’s chest twice and then pulls away, exiting the bedroom. Johnny knows to follow him without Taeil having to utter another word. 

As Johnny takes a seat on the kitchen table just beside the counter, Taeil walks over to the stove and reaches for the cabinet on top of it, rummaging through it. He frowns at it in concentration for a moment and then snaps his fingers, purple sparks cracking at his fingertips, and produces a bright pink package. “If you’re gonna be insufferable, you might as well be so while we eat. Coffee?” he asks.

Johnny knows Taeil knows the answer already, but he still says, “Of course.”

The Rahab demon swung its tail. The razor-sharp bones jutting from it glint under the streetlight. With one powerful swing, the demon brings its tail sailing down, and Johnny barely has time to roll away, back colliding against the stone wall that lines the side of the bridge.

The demon opens its snout to snap again, something it seems fond of doing, and Johnny takes the opportunity to send his seraph blade sailing straight for its open jaws. The seraph blade goes inside the Rahab’s mouth and a moment later the demon explodes, showering Johnny with stinging black ichor, but the pain is the last thing on his mind.

He allows himself a moment to take a deep breath before turning around, searching the bridge for his brother. “Donghyuck!” 

The only answer he gets is a strangled cry from the other side of the bridge, and Johnny wastes no time bolting towards it. There, surrounded by shadows, is Donghyuck, wrapped in another Rahab demon’s tongue, struggling to break free. 

Even from the distance Johnny can see Cortana flashing gold under the moonlight as Donghyuck twists and slashes the demon’s tongue with impressive strength. Black ichor sprays onto the pavement, but Johnny pays it no mind as he tries to get closer.

Donghyuck staggers backwards, taking barely a second to regain his balance as he raises Cortana again. The Rahab swings down its thin, bony tail, much like the other had done to Johnny, the teeth in its forehead snapping with anticipation, but Donghyuck doesn’t move. 

Johnny shouts in warning, but it seems like the air had turned into molasses around him. His limbs move slowly, like he was a fly struggling to make its way out of a pool of amber, and yet the demon before him was moving as if nothing was wrong. 

Donghyuck seemed to be struggling to open his mouth, and he could only manage the feat once the Rahab’s tail came into contact with his chest, sharp bones digging straight into Donghyuck’s chest. Donghyuck screamed as he flew back, smacking against a tree before crumpling to the ground, unmoving. Cortana came loose from his grasp, landing a few feet away in the opposite direction of Donghyuck’s body. 

In that moment, the air around Johnny seemed to snap. Johnny’s limbs broke free of their invisible bindings as he raced forward, taking Donghyuck in his arms, with only the cry of the retreating Rahab echoing in his ears. 

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this entirely on johnny's sunflower tattoo and all the fake tattoos from punch era.
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/chneji)   
> [cc](http://curiouscat.me/honeytips)


End file.
